


Painted With Your Name

by floatingonthelehigh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, M/M, Painting, Schoolboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingonthelehigh/pseuds/floatingonthelehigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is undoubtedly in love with Liam.</p><p>With the way he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles really hard, the way he can just simply charm people within minutes. The way he looks at you when you’re speaking, eyes never breaking eye contact so you can always see his reactions to what you’re saying. The way he sits at the table in front of him, back arched over his work, as Zayn sits, mouth hung open, paintbrush still wedged in-between his fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted With Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this six months ago and I haven't read it since.  
> (my mad transfer of all my fics from tumblr to ao3)

Zayn is undoubtedly in love with Liam.

With the way he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles really hard, the way he can just simply charm people within minutes. The way he looks at you when you’re speaking, eyes never breaking eye contact so you can always see his reactions to what you’re saying. The way he sits at the table in front of him, back arched over his work, as Zayn sits, mouth hung open, paintbrush still wedged in-between his fingers.

Liam stands up suddenly, and there’s a second where Zayn thinks that Liam will whip his body around and point his paintbrush at Zayn’s face and shout “stop looking at me, you twat”, but Liam doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his painting up off the steel working table, and turns it this way and that, tilting his head with it.

Zayn’s never been that way; he would never would’ve just stood up without fear and turned his painting in the silence that the entire class had constructed. But Zayn’s always been that way, always never had the courage to stand up like that. And he’s been perfectly fine with that. But it’s the fact that Liam does it so suddenly, and Zayn can’t even see his face, but he knows that Liam will have that tiny crease in-between his eyebrows, staring intently at the swishing lines of his paintbrush, and it makes Zayn’s stomach jump.

Liam is Zayn’s friend, though, so being in love with him isn’t very convenient. Especially when he has to talk and laugh with him all while thinking to himself how amazing it would be to just throw his arms around him and kiss his cheeks and comb his hands through his hair. But they’ve been friends for a couple months, since this art class first started and Zayn had spilled purple paint all over Liam’s arm. Liam had only smiled at the dripping stuff and then looked up at Zayn and raised his eyebrows. Zayn hadn’t even been able to say anything to a total stranger, just sort of move his mouth open and closed like a fish as Liam looked at him. But that had been turned into their little joke throughout the course of the semester, Liam calling Zayn “fish face” and Zayn naming Liam “Barney” after the big purple dinosaur Liam joked about being.

But even back then, Zayn knew he was a goner. Liam’s tousled hair that always ended up getting flecks of paint in it throughout the class, as he had a habit of rubbing his head when he was frustrated. The way he would hum tunes to himself even when the entire class was silent and the teacher had forgotten to put music on. Zayn would just sort of sit there, head hidden behind his canvas, and watch. And smile to himself. And shift himself around in his seat when his stomach fluttered.

 

So now that Liam is standing up and sticking his paintbrush out, measuring one way, then the other, Zayn’s heartbeat starts to slow. Liam turns around and Zayn is petrified once again, but Liam only smiles widely for half a second once their eyes lock and then turns back around. And really, that’s half their friendship right there. Smiles exchanged over canvases and eyes being rolled when the teacher goes over something that they’ve learned already. The other half is them being partners for projects, and tired conversations during class and pieces of gum being shared. And it’s the greatest.

The last ten minutes of class are always up to the students, where they can all walk around and look at each other’s work and talk. This is the time where usually the groups of girls with their ripped jeans and high ponytails group together and talk softly to each other, or when the dark haired ones with eye-makeup and band t-shirts all sit together. But most of all, this is when Zayn can talk to Liam.

 

“Can I see?” Zayn hears above him. He’s already smiling before he looks up, moving his hands from the canvas. Over the last couple days, he’s been painting a massive circle, with bits of red flecked into the center of it, while one side of the circle is completely tattered, almost like it’s bursting from the page. It’s supposed to make some sort of statement about human existence but after staring at it for a while Zayn sees nothing but imperfections.

Liam comes around to the other side of the table and leans over Zayn’s shoulder; and Zayn automatically feels calm and safe with Liam so close to him.

Liam smells the same as he always does, like a little bit of cologne that smells like Christmas. Zayn takes a couple seconds to just take him all in; being so close and his arm almost touching Zayn’s.

“Wow,” he hears Liam say, a drawn out breath that touches Zayn’s neck. Zayn turns his head to look up at Liam. Liam isn’t looking back; his eyes are locked on Zayn’s project, massive brown orbs that flit around the canvas.

“Can I see yours?” Zayn asks tentatively. He catches Liam’s eyes then, and Liam says “of course”, backing up from Zayn’s chair. Zayn awkwardly shuffles himself over to Liam’s table, and when he peers over the canvas, the breath literally gets sucked from his lungs.

Zayn knows how good of an artist Liam is. He’s seen his work all year. When they worked together he saw how the brush moved differently in Liam’s hands, more smooth, more caring. More precise yet free. He has an amazing eye. He knows how to shade perfectly. He knows how to balance one piece with another. But he didn’t know Liam could do this.

 

While Zayn had created a mediocre painting attempting to capture humans, showing them as a negative thing to the world, Liam hasn’t. He’s created the most perfect thing Zayn’s ever seen.

 

There’s a woman, with her arms flung around a man’s shoulders, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a laugh. The man’s hair is flung over his eyes as his back bends under her, but I can tell he’s laughing too. In the background, I see the sun and the moon and grass and I feel my lungs tighten again with pride.

“I just couldn’t get the mouths right,” Liam whispers over Zayn’s shoulder, but Zayn immediately shakes his head quickly.

“No, no. It’s perfect,” he says, with a little breathy sigh.

Liam laughs a little. “At least one of us thinks so, fish-face.”

Zayn wonders then how anyone could ever be so perfect.

 

Days later their teacher assigns them another project. This one larger than they’ve ever done before. “Partner up, everyone. This one’s gonna take a while.” he says, combing his hands through his short hair. Their teacher always looks tired, in the mornings, after lunch. Always tired and uninterested.

Before Zayn can process what’s happening Liam is standing over him, smiling and holding his sketchbook.

“Hey partner,” he says, sitting down in the seat next to Zayn’s.

“Who says I wanna be partners with you?” Zayn asks sarcastically, and Liam pretends to be offended.

“How dare you!” he shouts, smiling through it. Zayn looks back down at his sketchbook to hide his smile. The teacher starts talking again, meaningless words that drone out of his mouth. “You have three days to work on a concept that represents each of your personalities through pattern and shape.” Zayn looks over at Liam, his eyebrow raised.

“The hell does that mean?” Zayn asks him. Liam looks back at him, all his playfulness gone, his artist-face on.

“Why don’t we write some words down to describe each other. Then, we’ll share them, brainstorm and then paint.” he suggests. Zayn nods in a daze, and then Liam is smiling again and joking about the teacher and Zayn is just watching him, smiling.

Right before class ends, Liam turns to Zayn.

“Observant. There’s a word for you.” he says, smiling. Zayn frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn asks him. Liam just shrugs his shoulders and looks at Zayn from the corner of his eye.

“Fine. Arrogant. That’s your word.” Zayn says, feeling proud of himself as Liam rolls his eyes. “See?” Zayn says, smiling. Liam punches him on the arm.

It’s the greatest conversation they’ve had, and Zayn’s bliss follows him the entire day.

 

It’s midnight, and Zayn is at his desk at home, an old worn thing with drawings of little aliens all over it from when he was obsessed at age ten. There are little patterns and monsters all over the side and scratches from where he got frustrated and tore his pencil into the wooden fibers. He’s been sitting here for an hour, with only three words on his notebook. Arrogant, funny, artistic. How pathetic. It’s a horrible list of words, and he knows Liam will think the same. But if he were to write the actual things he wants to write; gorgeous, fit, stunning, mesmerizing, charming, witty, clever…Liam would know. And he’d be rejected. And then Liam would be gone. Zayn digs his pencil into the desk, but it does nothing.

So Zayn gives up on words and goes to sleep. Because maybe Liam will have done no better.

 

Liam did better.

He’s got a list of twenty words, all descriptive and better than anything Zayn would’ve imagined.

“Wow, I did not expect that.” Zayn says, holding the paper in front of him.

Easy-going.

honest

clever

kind

neat

quiet

charismatic

dependable

impulsive

sympathetic

 

And the list just kept going. Zayn doesn’t even know he was worthy of all those words.

“Mind if I steal some of these words for yours?” Zayn asks him. Liam raises his eyebrows and reaches down and crosses one of the words off his list. When Zayn looks down, he’s put a line through honest. Zayn giggles.

“Oh come on, usually I am!” Zayn says. Liam smiles and shakes his head.

“Too late, you’re now just as bad as the rest of us” he says, and Zayn’s heart flutters again. Zayn’s terrified that it’ll show on his face. And that Liam will see. He ducks his head down and stares at his notebook, thinking that he’s blown it.

 

Class continues, and they waste most of it. Which is bad because in the back of Zayn’s mind he knows that they’ve only got two more days for the project but it’s Liam and he and Zayn haven’t talked this much the whole semester. So Zayn lets Liam tell him about his friends and his life, all while he sketches little bits of doodles onto his and Zayn’s notebook.

And then the bell rings. And Liam stops mid-sentence as Zayn slings his backpack on his shoulder and Liam just sort of sits there dazed.

“Coming?” Zayn asks ask. Liam nods suddenly, and stands.

“I just realized that we’re going to have like, no time to finish this later.” He frowns. Zayn just watches him, as his face suddenly changes and his eyes brighten. “You can come over, if you want. After school today. I’ll just Student Council.” Zayn didn’t even know Liam was in student council. For some reason, it makes Liam more attractive. Zayn feels his heart rising as he tries to keep a straight face.

“Can you even skip that?” he asks. Liam shrugs and smiles.

 

And so began the longest rest of the school day Zayn has ever experienced.

 

He finds Liam at his car in the front lot after he had texted Zayn where to meet him. That was another thing that had happened before he left art- they were officially texting now too. Which makes Zayn smile just thinking about it.

Liam smiles at Zayn as he gets in the car and as soon as the door closes, Liam doesn’t stop talking.

“During study hall I totally had this massive idea; we can lean ourselves against the canvas and spatter paint ourselves, until when we back away our silhouettes are left. Then inside we can do words and quotes we like.” He pauses, looking out over the road. “It’ll be so cool,” he adds, mostly to himself, as he starts the car. Zayn looks at him for a second, takes a moment to realize he’s in Liam’s car, and tilts his head to the side.

“We’re going to splatter paint ourselves?” he asks with a bit of disbelief. He honestly didn’t think that he’d be doing that today. Liam turns to Zayn and gives him a look Zayn’s never seen. And Zayn doesn’t know how to describe it; his lips are slightly turned up and his eyes are wide. But then Liam just keeps talking about some crazy story where some girl in his lunch fell on the wet floor and even the janitor laughed. But Zayn’s hand is just gripping the seat, and he’s saying to himself what if I said I love you right now, but then he freaks himself out and stops thinking like that.

 

In a small ranch house at the end of the street; that’s where Liam lives. Although he doesn’t really live there. Zayn doesn’t realize that at first.

“Over here,” Liam says as Zayn starts to walk up the front sidewalk to the door. Zayn flits his eyes to Liam, who has a finger extended towards a small building a hundred yards over to the left. A small, white, shed thing half hidden by a line of trees. “That’s where I live,” Liam says a bit shyly, and when Zayn looks at him he sees him hiding a small, embarrassed smile.

Zayn follows him over to the shed and when Liam opens the door, Zayn is surprised. No, he’s more than surprised. He’s in awe.

It’s like an actual house. The “shed” must be much larger than he thought- there’s even a little loft eight feet from Zayn’s head. But the best part is that everywhere Zayn looks it’s just paint, and designs and creatures and words and colors and faces and once Zayn has turned in a complete circle a couple times his eyes lock on Liam’s. There has been no one else like Liam in Zayn’s life ever. No one that could live here. No one that could make this.

“You live here.” Zayn says, less of a question and more of just an unbelievable affirmation. Liam shrugs.

“It’s a bit uninhabitable at times, like during the winter, but yeah.” he says. Liam looks around himself, but he doesn’t look impressed. This is normal for him. This is not normal for Zayn.

Liam claps his hands together. “Do you wanna start the project?” Liam asks. Zayn nods unintentionally, as his eyes carry him around the room.

In one corner Liam’s got a tree- a painted tree- winding up onto the ceiling. And a deer peeking around it. And a painted bow and arrow shooting out fireworks and colors leading into a cityscape of London at night. And there’s a painting of a girl with big lips and grey eyes and Zayn ends up going up to it, and reaching up to touch the place where Liam has painted her hairline when a hand touches his shoulder. He whips his body around, petrified, his hands clenched in fists. Liam is standing there, eyes not looking at Zayn but at the woman on the wall. Then he flickers his eyes to Zayn.

“Sorry, I just think that she might still be wet.” He goes up to the painting and looks at it for a second. Backing away, he nods. “Sorry,” he says again. Zayn’s heart is still pounding.

“Yeah, let’s do the project.” he decides.

 

 

Liam spills the paint into little cups and hands Zayn a paintbrush. “Me first?” he asks, with a small smile. Zayn nods, dipping the brush in a baby blue, swirling it around a little. Then, lifting it up close to Liam’s face, he says “close your eyes.” Liam has turned on his ipod to full volume and right now there’s so much music thumping through Zayn’s veins that he doesn’t even need to think about how nervous he is.

The drums play louder as the band hits the chorus and Zayn splatters the first bit of paint across Liam’s face. Liam automatically starts to laugh and opens his eyes.

“Close!” Zayn shouts over the music, laughing too. “And stop moving.” He takes another bit of blue and splatters it across Liam. His face now has two massive stripes of paint on it. He’s still giggling.

“Hold still!” Zayn shouts again, physically holding him. Zayn feels conscious of his hand on Liam and moves it. He misses the touch moments later.

 

Liam’s face slowly changes into a splattered mess. After a while it’s hard to even see his skin. It’s then when Zayn decides that he’s done and goes to turn the music down a little. Things are too quiet without it blasting through his head, but at least he can hear himself speak now.

“You can open your eyes now.” Liam gratefully opens them, bright white against his now almost-purple face. He smiles. Bright white against the strange mess that used to be his skin. Zayn can’t hold in his laughter for long. Liam laughs too, and turns around to the canvas to see exactly what they’d hoped for- an exact outline of Liam’s head in splattered droplets of paint.

Liam’s previously paint-flecked hair is now completely covered in it. He wipes his eyes and mouth and nose so it just smears even more. They didn’t think to get a towel before.

“I feel disgusting,” Liam says, but he’s still laughing with Zayn. Liam eyes his hands for a second and then drags them down Zayn’s shirt. Zayn can feel his heart beating faster from the touch, but he pretends to look up slowly and angrily. His shirt feels wet and sticky, and he’s not going to lie-it’s one of his favorites.

“You arse” he says, going after Liam. He grabs his paintbrush and slams it down the front of Liam’s shirt. Liam gasps overdramatically.

“You’re gonna pay, fish-face!” he screams, grabbing a tube of green paint and squeezing it at Zayn. He laughs and ducks, but it hits him on the cheek. He tries to wipe it off, and while he does he goes for the purple oil paint on the desk.

“Barney!” Zayn manages to yell through his laughter, as he slashes Liam’s body with the liquid. Things get crazy after that; Zayn is getting just as messy as Liam is and soon enough he’s cowering in the corner as Liam dumps a whole tub of white paint on Zayn’s head. And they’re laughing and Zayn is crying of laughter and screaming that it’s never going to come out and Liam tells him to get up and fight like a man.

So Zayn stands up and looks around for more paint to throw, or something, but then he looks at Liam and realizes that Liam is just watching him, breathing heavily and smiling. He can’t see one part of Liam that isn’t covered in some sort of paint handprint or brushstroke and if Zayn were to squint he’s sure that Liam would have blended right in with his other paintings on the walls.

And then they’re kissing.

And it’s like nothing else; because he’s laughing in between kisses and soon enough they’re on the floor and there’s paint just everywhere and Zayn can taste paint but also Liam and Liam. He loves him, and now there’s paint everywhere and their breathing is hard and their painting is still in the corner, unfinished.

Breathing heavily as Liam straddles Zayn on the floor, Zayn watches as Liam scrapes a piece of Zayn’s hair out of his eyes, leaving a mark from the dried paint on his face. Their bodies are starting to dry and the paint will turn hard and it really won’t come out then.

“Incredible. That’s a word for you.” Zayn says as soon as he thinks of it. Liam smiles and kisses him again, and it’s more than he’d ever wished for.

“Astonishing. Amazing. Marvelous. Stunning-“ Zayn cuts him off with a kiss.

“Shut up,” he says softly. Liam lies there, looking at him for a while.

“Was that always your deal? Did you like me that whole time? All those days during class?” Liam asks. Zayn nods.

“Love. I loved you that whole time.” Zayn says quietly, so Liam can barely pick it up. When he does, he sees that same look that he saw in the car on the way over here. Zayn giggles a little, just because this whole thing is insane. “Ever since you named me fish-face.” he says. Liam laughs, and Zayn can feel the vibration deep inside him.

“ I’ve always liked you too.” Liam says. After a second, Liam nods once. “Scratch that; loved.” and Zayn kisses him again, because he can. Minutes pass. Paint dries. 

“Now can we please hose off or something?” Liam asks. But Zayn just shakes his head.

“We haven’t even finished our painting,” Zayn says. Sighing, Liam rolls his eyes and stands up, helping Zayn.

“We’ve still got two days,” he replies. Zayn watches as Liam rubs a hand through his tousled hair, which is now a striking red, and remembers that’s only one of the thousands of reasons why he loves Liam.

Zayn smirks. “Is that an invitation for me to come here again?” he says. Liam’s eyes change suddenly and Zayn’s being pushed up against the wall, Liam’s hands on either side of him.

“Yes.” he says, kissing Zayn once on the neck, his voice soft and sweet.

Pressed up against him, Liam smells like lots of paint and a hint of Christmas.


End file.
